SugarCoated: The Final Slice
by A Sweet Catastrophe
Summary: The final installment of my SugarCoated trilogy. A year has passed since that infamous day. What will a trip back to Japan mean?


_**Author's Note:** Ta-da! **The last installment of my **_**Sugar-Coated_ trilogy_**

_If you have not read _Sugar-Coated_ or _Sugar-Coated: A Second Helping_ this will make little sense._

_This is either somewhat AU or a symbolic dream and hopefully it will make you smile and not make you sick from the joy. This is the last you will hear from me about these two crazy kids because I have exhausted this relationship to death. The only possible thing remaining that I could think of writing is character introspection and the odds of my doing that are so slim I shouldn't have even mentioned it._

* * *

Sugar-Coated: The Final Slice

_I am 100 percent sure that I am in love with you._

Was.

_Whether or not you decide to go is your choice. I understand if you do not wish to._

You would have understood. However, it was never my choice. You gave me the keys. You wanted me to go. The reason why is hidden in the building, I'd assume.

Her hands walked listlessly up and down her thigh, as everything about him and his last letter was thrown into a barely comprehendible maelstrom, one she found herself getting sucked into at every attempt at analysis.

Drowning. Drowning!

Some Japanese gibberish caused her to become aware that she was not alone, even though she was in a public place.

Without moving her head, she opened her eyes and glanced up at a man in a typical business suit and a tan trench coat, a newspaper held in his hand: Mid-thirties, upper middle class, unhappily married with probably two or three kids, on for a long ride home where he will meet a home-cooked meal and lackluster conversation. Maybe he's cheating too. If it were another day, he'd be in a bar, getting hammered on sake and hiding the ring in his pant's pocket. Just one night, he'd tell the girl next to him with the low-cut blouse. And she'd think he's a good-looking guy and agree, oblivious to the adultery she, as many others, helped him commit.

She mentally kicked herself for profiling again, especially since she had no concrete evidence on this man to jump to such conclusions. It was just the stereotype.

Before him, she had paid no attention to people. They were another species that she did not understand in the faintest but had to coexist with. Then she found another of her kind. As far as she knew, she was the last of her kind outside of the few Wammy House children who fit their type but who have yet to be thrown into society. Now after realizing that connections really do happen no matter what group you are, humans have become a constant nature special: they can be thrown into categories with others of their kind, they feed on the weak and ostracize the ones that are of another classification, and they cannot survive without others of their kind.

She was trying. But after realizing what it's like to have another of your kind when you think you are an endangered species, it's hard to go back to being completely alone.

The man leaned away a bit, taken aback by her aloofness even though she really wasn't trying to look hostile. It was the way she acted around strangers. That was all.

"May I sit here?" he asked in broken English, since he realized that she looked like a foreigner and probably didn't speak Japanese, as he motioned to the seat next to her. She did not react. She just stared.

After a solid twenty seconds of waiting for an answer the man groaned and walked away, assuming she didn't speak either of those languages or was just being cruel. She watched him walk over to a seat near a pretty, young girl and then closed her eyes again until the name of her stop was called.

"Excuse me. Could you help . . .?"

Gone.

She didn't look at back at the man who had tried to stop her; she just moved swiftly down the street, focused on her goal.

It was not uncommon for her to be approached by people. She knew she looked approachable in her red, silk blouse, sensible chocolate brown skirt, and expensive gray, tweed jacket. It was exactly the way her boss wanted her to look. He used to always threaten to fire her if she didn't start dressing nicely because she apparently 'portrayed an unprofessional image' even though she knew they were empty threats since she was the best neurologist they had and losing her would mean losing lots of money. Nonetheless, she dressed how they wanted, in designer names she did not know or care about, having her laundry sent out to be washed and ironed for her and not caring if she tripped and spilled cocoa all over them. She did it because what she wore didn't matter to her at all. But she still missed when she had last been there in Japan and had no way of cleaning her clothes so she'd have an excuse to wear something wrinkled or dirty that she had probably worn to bed the night before. She didn't see a purpose in pajamas.

She kept her head forward but her eyes were scanning everywhere in search of this building. Anything with an outside label was immediately ruled out of the possibility of being what she's looking for.

In front of her lay hoards of people that she avoided coming in contact with at all costs as if they were all infected with leprosy or some equally horrifying disease. However, even in such a crowd, she did not feel different. She could be surrounded by people and be able to detach herself from them so well that she felt like she was alone, a skill that was not so developed in her childhood years. But, since she was moving, she viewed them as inanimate objects that she would have to avoid just so that she wouldn't hurt herself by accidentally walking into one or tripping over one.

She turned the corner, feeling completely lost. The last time she had been there, she had picked up a few Japanese words but the written kanji was still scribbles to her. She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out the main key, which was lingering among two others and the letter that she brought just in case there was something in it that might help her on this journey. She flipped over the cold metal and squinted at the face of the key. Inscribed in very small letters was the address with the corresponding kanji written below it, so small it was almost illegible. She glanced from the road sign to the key. It's the right street.

One building in particular, caught her eye. It didn't have a sign of any nature out front. She looked from the key to the door again. The numbers matched.

She scanned her left and right side looking extremely suspicious but no one seemed to notice. Either way, she put in the key and brusquely went into the building that she hoped was vacant. If the new L was still using the building, she would be in for a lot of cover-ups and a new strategy. Especially if the new L was, God forbid, Raito. Considering the fact that support in Kira had actually increased since the change in detectives, it was entirely possible. He was close to the investigation. He had a small numerical chance of being guilty, but numbers are not absolved of lying. No doubt, he would be elected to take on the challenge by the task force since he was intelligent and knew the case so well.

She shuddered and looked around.

She was in the lobby. A pretty standard place in any corporate building with comfortable black, leather and metal furniture, large windows, and a desk that no one was behind since it was just for show. The room was very closed in with a door on each side. Which one is it? She wondered. Both doors were identical, without windows to hint what was behind them, so she simply walked towards the one she was closest to. There was a key pad next to it for entering a code so she took out one of the other keys that was in the envelope containing his final letter to her and typed in the code inscribed on it. In both Japanese and English a voice recording told her that she had entered an incorrect code. She reached into her jacket pocket again and used the code on the other key. After hearing that the code was correct, a profile was displayed on a screen above it. Name: Kit Carlisle. Birthday: N/A. Address: N/A. Position: Investigator, Psychologist, and Women's Intuition. In the area where a photo would be displayed, there was a drawing of her that she had never seen before but looked like a photo nonetheless. After marveling at the drawing, thinking it must have been done by someone at the Wammy House, she used the key to physically open the door. Brilliant as always, she thought to herself, turning the handle. Even if someone were to discover her code, they wouldn't be able to enter without a key and she was sure her keys were the only ones that actually had the codes on them. And considering the make up of the keypad, it was probably designed for retina scans as well.

When she entered the room, it looked even more like a normal building as much of a facade as it was. There were elevators, hallways, stairways, and random items that every building is equipped with, such as a potted plant with a chair next to it that no one ever really has the time to sit in. However, she noted that to use the elevator, she would have to go through a metal detector. The only metal things on her were the keys, her wallet, and her cell phone so she passed through without disturbing the alarm.

Staring at the numbers indicating which floor to go to, she observed the need to make a decision. The building has twenty-three floors and two basements but which one is hers? She double checked the keys for any indication of a floor number and did not find anything but the codes that she already knew were there. The only other thing she had was the letter so she pulled it out of the envelope, hands shaking since she had not taken the letter out of its paper confines in a year, and read it through, trying not to absorb the words and to, instead, focus on searching for a number. She didn't find a single one outside of the 100 in "I am 100 percent sure that I am in love with you." She sighed heavily and flipped the envelope towards her to put the letter back.

Twelve. On the inside of the top flap of the envelope was the number twelve, written in black ink and small so that it would not be too noticeable. Although she was surprised that she hadn't noticed it when she had first opened the envelope, she assumed that it was because she had been too emotional - a profoundly rare occasion - to pay attention to such a minute detail. She pushed the button for floor twelve and gripped the handle nervously.

_Please enter your entrance code_, the automated voice requested, first in Japanese, then in English, as another keypad came out of a slot below the buttons. She used the code on the last key and the big metal doors opened.

She was in another hallway but this hallway was unlike the one downstairs, or any other she had seen for that matter. The walls were painted in a calming blue and the floor was covered with a plush green carpet, making it resemble an empty field. The hallway was larger than most hallways she had seen before and connected to another one, painted and carpeted the same way, each lined with wooden doors like trees framing the open land. Something about it felt so serene, the way she thought a home should feel. Considering the lack of interior decoration in all the other rooms she had seen so far, she wondered if this floor had been decorated especially for her. She walked over to the first door on her left and jiggled the handle, finding that it was locked. She used the last key to open it and stepped inside.

This room was also beautiful. It was a living room with large windows draped in red, velvet curtains, tied back by gold rope to let the almost completely set sun show through. The walls were an energizing bright white and there was a couch, a chair, and a love-seat, covered in charcoal gray fabric. A darkly-stained, wooden coffee table sat in the middle of the room and a flat-screened television was placed off to the side so that it was not as conspicuous but still in the perfect position to watch from any of the furniture in the room. There was a wide sliding glass door in the back of the room that appeared to lead to a kitchen and dining room.

She walked further into the room and ran her hand along the top of the couch. It was the softest material she had ever felt and stuffed to make it the kind of couch that is hard to get off of once you sit down. The temperature in the room was comfortable so she took off her jacket and hung it on a gold-colored hat rack by the door.

Her restless hands demanded that she touch everything: the velvet of the curtains, the new glass window displaying the city, the smooth gloss of the table, and the screen of the modern television, as if she was trying to sense what her life would have been like.

Once she was satisfied, she looked out of the window to see that the sun had set causing the room to be covered in darkness. She had intended to spend the night in the building and it seemed as if there was no one living in it, or even just using it, so she wouldn't have to fear getting found. And she knew she was the only one who had a code and key to the twelfth floor, except the genius who had owned it and she had no idea what had happened to his key.

She continued to stare outside, the view reminding her of the view from the hotel she had stayed in. More specifically, what the view looked like when she was watching the sun set out of the corner of her eye while having a long discussion with the man who had created this living space for her. She wondered if she would have liked to cry, if it would have made her feel better, but after crying over getting the news of his death through his letter, she made the decision to never cry again. It didn't solve anything. Being sad, however, was always allowed no matter how little came of it. At least when she was sad, she wouldn't be burdened with the self-loathing feeling of trying to be happy.

Her focus on the window started to blur and fade making her dizzy as a soft light started to emanate from the corner of the room where the television was located giving the room an orange luminescence. That's strange, she thought, coming back to the present. I didn't turn on any lights. This is not logical.

"Hello Kassie." said a voice coming from the corner where the light originated.

Slowly she turned around and looked into his sleep-deprived eyes, her own widening at the spectacle before her. He looked the same as he had before she left for London: black, messy hair, wide, innocent, tired eyes, white shirt, jeans, no shoes, socks, or slippers constricting his bare feet. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he was hunched forward, as he always was when standing.

And there was a light coming from him.

"How did you . . .?" she spat out as she started backing away from the being. Her voice was steady and slow-paced for having just caught sight of her dead companion. "You're supposed to be dead. Am I hallucinating? I must be hallucinating!" she said, shaking her head at herself. "I mean, you're dead. You didn't fake your death, did you? I mean, the light! Where is the light . . . ? Are you a ghost . . . spirit . . . angel . . . what? How did you know . . .?"

And then everything went black.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, she was lying down along the charcoal couch with her head positioned carefully on the plump armrest as she stared at the ceiling. With both eyes. She touched her hair, feeling that her bangs had been placed behind her ear so both her eyes were visible. Light, she thought to herself as she admired the gentle glow that cascaded across the ceiling. The sun had set when I last looked outside so it's an alternative source, she noted without going into a further critique.

She lackadaisically lifted her body up and rubbed the back of her head. It was throbbing in a dwindling pain that felt like the residual effect of another one of her accidents. Then her eyes fell on the coffee table in front of her. I tripped over the coffee table and hit my head, she realized.

Then she remembered why.

In the corner by the window, she saw him on the ground, crouched down in his signature position as he stared at her with curious eyes. She regarded him calmly since she was over the shock, biting her lip to keep from saying anything before him. She wanted to see what this figure had to say for himself.

"Are you feeling better?"

She nodded and stood up slowly, rocking a bit, her balance thrown off from the fall. He made a quick movement forward as if he was going to get up and help her but she straightened herself out on her own.

"What are you?" she asked seriously, her fingers wiggling back and forth at her sides.

He put his thumb in his mouth and she felt a slight shoulder undulation take over her at the familiarity of the action. "I am something of a spirit. A spirit made solid, to be more accurate. I am still allowed the behaviors of spirits but I am completely visible as part of a deal made with . . . them."

"Them?" she questioned, taking a step towards him. I'm not hallucinating, she repeated to herself.

He pointed upwards as if that made everything clear. "Sometimes when a spirit has unfinished business on Earth, they return or are permanently bound somewhere to fulfil their purpose. Such as spirits whose bodies died somewhere that they had a strong emotional connection to. Those kinds of spirits may spend eternity in that spot, doing what they wish and occasionally returning to the other world. I was told that I had unfinished business on Earth but business that would require a partially visible form which implies a particular confrontation. It was upon my request that I be made solid and like how I was when I was alive and they agreed but it came with the slight price of some spirit removing that I will have to complete later before I return."

"What kind of unfinished business?" she asked, collapsing onto her knees in front of him so that they were at eye level with each other, her bangs also falling from behind her ear so they concealed her bad eye.

He glanced upwards. "Well, initially I thought it would have something to do with Kira but considering that I ended up here, it must have to do with us. Maybe something I have to tell you. Something to console you. I have been watching you and although you seem to have returned to how you were before us, after a year, people who have lost a loved one are supposed have something that you don't. I don't know what that is but maybe I'm supposed to give it to you."

Like a baby who has just mastered movement, she crawled closer to him and silently looked at him, amazed by the structure. He looked so normal. So like himself.

"You're being awfully quiet, Kassie. Usually you are so much more talkative with me. And I must say that you are a very calm shocked person. Not that I would have expected anything less from you."

Without responding, she tentatively brought her hand up towards his face, fingers stretched out as if she was going to grasp something, expecting her hand to go through him, not believing that a solid spirit was possible. Instead, she was met with flesh. Warm flesh, as if there were veins beneath it. And she had remembered him as always being a bit on the cool side when he was alive.

"Do you feel that?" she asked, referring to her hand that was now cupping his cheek.

"Yes." he said, removing the thumb from his mouth. "I supposedly have all the normal human senses that would not be fully present in a gaseous form."

She brought the hand down off his cheek and pressed two fingers into the side of his neck, where his jugular vein would be, as she had done with many patients when heart rate monitors were not yet available.

"No pulse." she said, removing the fingers and placing an ear to his chest. "No beating."

"I wish I could explain more about the way this solid form is chemically made up but I was not given much information myself. They like to keep some things a mystery to even us." he said, sympathetically.

And then she leaned in and kissed him. His lips were warm, soft, not chilled, but they still reminded her of cake and question games, falling asleep on his shoulder and then dreaming wonderful characterless dreams. She run her fingers through the unkempt hair on the back of his head, her hand providing a cushion for when they both fell over onto the floor from the weight she was pushing on his thin frame.

"Do you know what today is?" he asked, tucking her hair behind her ears since it had all fallen in front of her face when she fell on top of him.

"Guy Fawkes Night?" she said, sure that was not the answer he was looking for but she couldn't think of any other holidays that took place on November fifth.

"It's the reason I was sent back here today when, as I would fathom, you will be staying in this building for a while." he said, gravely.

Her face went blank. "The day you . . ."

She didn't need to finish the sentence because he was already nodding. Her eyes fell away from his face and stared at the blank white of his shirt as if it could somehow clear her mind. Of course, any attempt she makes at clearing her mind comes up short. She was thinking of her last visit to the Wammy House again: the cold brick against her back, the lush green fields, Near and Mello, and then running away and riding the trains until they closed down.

He placed his thumb, that had a little bit of saliva remaining on it, under her chin in order to tilt her face towards him and they stared at each other.

"You haven't been sleeping." he said unfazed, noting the way her eyes fell half-closed.

"I can't anymore." she said earnestly. "Everything really has gone back to the way it was."

"But it doesn't have to be exactly how it was just because I'm not there." he insisted, putting his arms around her waist.

She bit her lip as if she was contemplating what he said. She was actually trying to force any sad impulses away, although she quickly realized that biting her lip was causing tears to form near her bottom lashes so she quickly stopped and instead, kissed him again.

She kissed to forget. To try to distract herself from the fact that he will never be there again. To surround herself in the only thing she wanted and the only thing she could never get back, not realizing that the thing in question was starting to get apprehensively nervous at her behavior when he felt her jittery hand running under his shirt and up his emaciated chest.

He gave a violent flinch when she reached a most sensitive spot, causing her to break the kiss.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked concerned. She didn't have much of an idea of what she was doing so she wouldn't be surprised if she had scratched him with her bitten, jagged nails or something equally as painful.

"No, actually you inflicted the antithesis of hurt on me." he said effortlessly, his serious expression not faltering. She looked away from him a bit, wondering why she wasn't prepared for his bluntness.

"I think there's some things we should discuss. You probably have a lot of questions that I should answer before you forget them." he said, moving around as a sign for her to stand up so he could get off the floor.

"Oh, yes. Good point." she said, standing and backing up until she hit the wall. She clenched her teeth when her head made contact. It was still sore from the fall she had taken earlier.

Instead of stepping away from the wall like he was expecting her to do, she raised both her arms and bent them at the elbows so that her hands were parallel with her head and placed the backs of her hands flat against the wall. "So they don't get distracted." she said, speaking about her hands as if they were beings independent of her control.

He briefly wondered if her hands would be able to stay still for so long, since they were already twitching with the need to explore but decided to just let her do it. It would be easier to conduct a weighty conversation at a distance anyway.

"So what lies beyond death?" she said, jumping right into the heaviest question she could think of.

"I am not at liberty to say." he stated. "There are certain things I am not allowed to discuss with you and anything that will drastically alter the lives of others or that will reveal what is supposed to be unknown is forbidden." He stuck his thumb into his mouth. "However, I can say that there are many different places you may go and which one you are sent to is dependent on how you lived your life." He quirked a smile of reassurance. "And you will be interested to know that what is considered right and wrong on Earth can sometimes be very different than what is considered right and wrong in the afterlife."

She tilted her head with intrigue but knew he would not be able to give her specific examples.

"So you can watch me. Are there any other human to spirit abilities that you have up there?" she asked, her arms getting weak. On some level she was comforted by the fact that he watched her. She liked that he was checking up on her like a guardian angel. On the other hand it was probably a painful sight, seeing her alone and not being able to help her. He probably would have done something if he could but she wanted clarification.

"I can watch almost anything happening here. Visiting, I have already explained to you as it is a lot more selective and a much more difficult department. Other than that, we are not allowed to transfer anything whatsoever or speak to you without permission."

She nodded. "When do you have to return? And why is there light around you?" she asked, her arms falling down slightly but her hands never straying from the wall. He couldn't help but think that she looked like a prisoner. It was as if her hands were chained to the wall, restricting their natural ability to be curious and alive and instead, making them ail with time. He wanted to tell her to put them down but he knew she wouldn't listen. They were both stubborn about things like that.

"An indeterminate time. When my unidentified tasks that I must complete while here are finished. And the light is from the process of making a solid form. This form does not exist technically in a human sense so it, as you know, has some encumbrances."

She couldn't hold out much longer. Her muscles were beginning to spasm and she knew she only would have enough time for one more question before they gave out completely.

"Are we allowed to . . . participate in normal human acts that you were deprived of?" she spat out, trying to phrase it in the least crude way that she could.

He took his thumb out of his mouth and moved towards her. Her hands were legitimately frightening him now so he placed his hands over hers and lowered them until they were at her sides, clasped in his.

"Do you love me?" he asked, his wide eyes boring into her.

She blinked back, emotionlessly. "After all this, you have to ask that question? Of course I do. I have never loved anything in this world except you."

He nodded. "Then yes, it is allowed." he murmured cryptically. "Any more questions?"

She shook her head lightly. "Except . . . is it . . . possible?" she wondered, releasing his hands to place hers on his lower back.

"Would you like a scientific explanation as to how it's possible? You would have to open your mind to this idea of a solid spirit in order to fully comprehend it."

She thought for a second and then pulled him towards her so that she was held pressed between the wall and his body. "You know what? I don't care. I'm going to accept that this defines what we know about science and anatomy and just be thankful that you're here." she said, kissing him as her fingers slid down his back and up underneath his shirt.

* * *

"Kill me."

The voice next to him sounded so gentle and sincere but he did not acknowledge it with even the slightest movement or noise. She was sitting sedately next to him and not moving, half dressed with a blanket around her shoulders that reminded her of falling asleep on his hotel room couch and waking up wrapped in the same warmth because he didn't want her to get cold. She, the only one he was capable of loving, wanted nothing more in the world than to die. His eyes refused to leave the ceiling as he subtly bit down harder on his thumb. He couldn't exactly say that what she said came as a surprise. In fact, it was more of a surprise that she had waited so long to say something.

"I can't do that." he said matter-of-factly as he removed his thumb to look at the skin on it. He would have been bleeding by now but instead he saw pale, untarnished flesh. He wondered if he could bit through, he could become human again permanently even though he knew the incontestable impossibilities of such an act.

"Can't or won't?" she challenged, daring him to look at her with a sharp gaze. She wondered if not looking at her made it easier for him to maintain stoicism and deliver the facts without ardently showing his opinion on them.

He moved his thumb to the side of his mouth so he could speak more clearly and turned his head. "Both. I am not allowed to do such a thing, nor would I if I could."

Her face grew cold, trying to find a logical reason why he wouldn't if he was able to. Could it be that he believes there is still something, or even someone, left in this world for me? Does he not understand?

"I could always do it myself, you know?" she threatened without being even the smallest bit harsh. "The human body is not as strong as we give it credit for. I see people dying around me everyday in my occupation."

"If you just wished to die, you could have the moment you found out I was dead." he stated, confidently. "But if you do choose to kill yourself, you will not end up in the same place as me. As I said, there are many different places that the dead end up and while with the path you are on, there is at least a ninety percent chance we will be together in the afterlife, if you killed yourself the odds would switch so that there would be a ninety percent chance that you would end up somewhere else."

"Hell?" she asked, now curious to hear about these places that he is not supposed to speak of.

He grinned. "You're oversimplifying it. Not everything is as easy as Heaven and Hell. And now you are going to stop talking about this because I have almost breached the rules, which I'm sure you were trying to get me to do anyway."

She smiled back at him. "You're too smart for your own good."

He turned back towards the ceiling but put his arm around her so that they could be closer. He was starting to feel distance, something he never wanted to feel from her when they were continents away, worlds away, or even just hotel rooms away.

Her fingers started to walk across his bare knees.

"You sit that way to increase your reasoning ability, but is it also to barricade?" she asked, sounding a little forlorn.

"Perhaps." he answered. "But I'm not trying to keep you out. I was not in this position a few minutes ago."

"I know." she said, taking his hand in hers. "So, if I am permitted to know, why are you denied the right to kill me? I know you can, you were talking about soul removing earlier."

"Because you still have changes left to make. We are put on this Earth for reasons and taken off for reasons as well. They know when you can leave and what the future holds for you. I have also found that they can create 'what if' scenarios to prove why they do these things the way they do." he looked at her, a touch of pride in his face. "You have lives left to save. By killing you, I would be killing tons of people who could not find a neurosurgeon as competent as you to treat them."

"That's makes sense." she said, begrudgingly agreeing. "But about these 'what if' scenarios. . . you've seen them, haven't you?"

He nodded, turning away from her.

"What would have happened?" she asked vaguely, her fingertips dancing on his palm like a stage. She could have made a guess about how they would have ended up but a part of her wanted to hear the truth, those facts they both liked to have so much.

"You'd live here, of course. Raito would have been found guilty of being Kira and thrown in jail on death row. Misa too, although she would have killed herself while imprisoned. She couldn't take the waiting for death and life without Raito."

She squinted her eyes. "So much about the case . . . what about us?"

He had been avoiding getting into specifics to avert the chance of upsetting her. "We would be together for a while. Then marriage, inevitably, since that is how all good matches end up and even you, so unconventional, desire it."

She looked down at her lap guiltily. "It never crossed my mind before you."

"Same with me." he answered, pressing his forehead to hers when she looked up. "I didn't want to hear anymore after that. No use wanting what you can never have."

She nodded against him, both their heads moving up and down in tandem.

"You're staying here tonight, aren't you?" she asked, wishing that somehow he'd never complete his mission and not leave until she met her demise naturally.

"Of course." he answered. "I don't need to sleep, though you look very tired. I will lay with you if you want."

She leaned away from him and stretched out on the couch. "You don't have to." she said, resting her head on the couch's armrest and pulling the blanket around herself. "I'm just going to sleep here tonight."

Trying to be as careful as possible, he stretched out his legs and leaned over so that he was beside her. "Please don't lose hope Kassie. We will see each other again."

She smiled and touched his face gently.

"And you do have a purpose. You give people the opportunity to enjoy this life longer with the ones they care about, the others of their kind, if it's easier to make a comparison that way."

She rested her head against his chest and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling like a purification ritual.

"Thank you." she murmured. And she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The light was streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows, warming the room and making the white walls glow. Groggily opening her eyes, she looked around, the light immediately waking her up and bringing her out of her pleasant, nondescript dream. When they adjusted, she took note of the room finding everything as it was before she went to bed, minus one couch-side companion.

She threw off the blanket and stood up, stretching her arms and accidentally bumping her knees into the coffee table. She rubbed them quickly to numb the pain but smiled at her own infallible ability to find every thing with a bodily collision.

Smile still present on her face, she put a hand up to the window glass and stared into the rising sun until her eyes burned.

It is going to be a good day.


End file.
